


Words from the Heart

by FedonCiadale



Series: A thousand eyes and one [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22717669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Sansa  prepares for the fight with Bloodraven and gets unexpected help.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: A thousand eyes and one [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522172
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: Jonsa 100 Drabble Challenge, JonsaValentine2020





	Words from the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanzuh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/gifts).



> So, here is another part of my Bran is Bloodraven AU. I rushed this a bit to be ready on Valentine's day....

The howling wolves came nearer every night. That was unusual for spring. With more game available they should begin to avoid human settlements. The people in the North were afraid and they saw it as a bad omen, an omen of change.

Sansa was not sure. Her brain told her that it was dangerous, that wolves were Bloodraven’s creatures. Only Ghost was not. The wolves circling Winterfell might be his creatures and yet their howling calmed her like music. When she laid in her bed at night, she slept better than she had slept in months, better than any time since the first suspicion of the reality of Bloodraven ruling Westeros had gripped her mind.

As usual she had battled her morning sickness with liquorice root, laying alone in the dark, in the hope, that no unfriendly eyes would observe her. Her cat came and snuggled to her, but for once her cat’s mind was free of anything else but cat thoughts.

Her bannermen worried about the wolves. There were rumours about one big she-wolf who led the huge pack, an immense beast that did not fear men. People whispered about the wolves’ unnatural behaviour and wondered if the Old Gods were angry. Someone said that this would not have happened if they had a king, or if the Stark line was not about to die out. If they only knew.

It was a matter of allaying her people’s fears. Sansa decided to ride out with just a few men to have a look at this pack of wolves, if only to assure them, that it was just that, a pack of wolves, hungry after the long winter. Yes, they should not come that close to humans, the pack should not be that big, but their Queen’s presence would assure them, that they were nothing unnatural. She was determined to lay her people’s fears to rest even though she herself could hear the wolves calling to her. It gave her hope, it frightened her. She wondered if her warging was yet good enough to handle a pack leader. She wondered if she had to confront Bloodraven alone after all.

They rode out during the night, so that they would meet the pack while the wolves hunted, just Sansa and five knights. Lord Royce had insisted on coming along. The moon was full and painted silvery lines on the sky where the clouds reflected her light. The hooves of Sansa’s horse drummed the earth with a steady rhythm that soothed her. She slipped into the minds of the horses, brushing them ever so slightly, like a calming stroke that would smooth the edge of their nervousness.

They chanced upon the pack on a moonlit hill. At the sight of the dozen wolves, the men let out tiny huffs, letting go of the fear that had gripped them with all the wild tales. They fought the dozen wolves were all, but Sansa knew better. She could feel them, all of them, and the wolves on the hill were nothing more than the vanguard’s patrol. The wolves stood alert, but with ease as if they did not fear the few humans.

The knights gasped when Sansa urged her horse to run on the hilltop. Brushing the horse’s mind was not enough now. She had to warg the animal or the horse would have run. Her men shouted after her, but their horses would not go near the wolves. Sansa dismounted and her horse hastily run as soon as she had slipped out of its mind.

She addressed one of the wolves. “Fetch her,” she told the animal, and she projected an image of herself, a red-furred she-wolf, leader of her own pack, waiting for the other pack leader, not in fear but as an equal. She felt no presence of Bloodraven in any of the wolves. She shouted to her companions to stay put, when they descended their horses to join her. “I need to do this alone,” she told them.

The moon was about to descend to the horizon when the pack leader arrived. The huge direwolf that dwarfed the other animals, came alone, her step almost silent on the remaining snow, her eyes glittering in the waning moonlight. She was graceful and untameable. She was her own, Sansa was sure, she would not be able to warg her. She might earn her respect.

Sansa extended her hand. “Nymeria,” she called. The direwolf came closer. She bowed down to sniff her hand, her head almost on the same level as Sansa’s breast. Sansa tried to make her pounding heart beat slower. Her eyes searched the bottom of Nymeria’s eyes, and she thought she saw the glimmer of something human in them. She knelt, bowing to this queen, showing her respect.

Suddenly, she felt a lick of a tongue on her face, and then the direwolf was gone, taking her wolves with her. Sansa stood and returned to her men. She feared that they would shy away from her, but their eyes were full of awe.

“You are the Stark queen, we need,” Lord Royce said.

Sansa accepted his arm to mount her horse. “Just a direwolf, not an unnatural beast,” she answered, smiling.

The pack stayed in the neighbourhood of Winterfell, but her people’s fear had vanished. Sansa had forbidden to hunt any of the pack, and the truce between wolves and humans held.

Sansa was not surprised, when a group of travellers reached Winterfell. The travellers were a ragged group, they didn’t have much that was worth selling. Apparently, they hoped to get furs and pelts in the North or so they claimed. Their leader was a loud boisterous man, tall and strong with a surprisingly high pitched voice.

“Your grace,” he said, when he bowed. “I hail from Braavos, and I did not think I would call someone ‘your grace’ anytime soon. But here I stand.”

“You are very welcome.”

“I always wondered how it would be to live like a lady as you do.”

Sansa smiled. “I think, people would realise if we were to swap places. You do look different than me.”

The man twinkled and Lord Royce told him in no uncertain words, that he should respect the Queen.

“I am quite sure, he doesn’t mean any harm,” Sansa told him.

At night she stole away to the heart tree, the moon gave a silvery tinge to the pool at the foot of the weirwood tree. First Nymeria came out of the shadows, then a dozen of her wolves. Sansa did not feel fear.

“Your grace,” she heard a voice behind her.

She turned, and hugged the man. She had to reach upward.

“Arya,” she whispered into his beard. “You came.”

They sat under the heart tree, circled by the wolves.

“They won’t let any other warging animal close,” Arya explained. “We can talk and plan.”

Sansa let out her breath. “We can really talk?”

She felt as if an immense weight had lifted from her heart.

She told Arya everything, how Bloodraven controlled the animals, how she was never free from his spies, how Bloodraven had killed her suitors and would be suitors, how her days were ruled by the fear that she might lose her soul. Then she cried. It was strange to be held by this man who looked nothing like Arya, but when Nymeria came and pressed herself against Sansa, Sansa knew that she was not alone any longer.

“Why does he not want you to marry,” Arya asked.

“I think he fears the blood of the First men.”

“Why did he not kill you?”

Sansa dabbed at her eyes. “I am not sure, either he fears that the North will slip from his fingers, and decided to take the long root…. or… “. She did not know if she could even voice her hope.

“Or Bran is still there, somewhere deep down and stays his hands.”

Sansa nodded.

“You’re pregnant,” Arya stated. “That forces our hand. We have to take him down now, or your child will not live.”

Sansa laid a hand on her belly.

“Who is the father? All your suitors were driven away or killed?”

Sansa blushed furiously. “Jon”

“Jon”, Arya said, the voice of the man she was flat and devoid of feelings.

She might as well admit it all. “I’ve loved him for a long time,” she whispered.

“Even before you knew he is our cousin?”, Arya asked, her eyes probing her.

“Yes, even before that,” Sansa admitted, her cheeks aflame. “I would have buried my feelings deep inside my heart if I had not found out about Bloodraven.”

Arya scoffed. “I thought it was just him.”

“What, you knew?”

Arya nodded. “I knew he did not love that Dragon queen. But I only realised how he felt when he left us for the wall. He looked back Sansa, he looked back. I knew then.”

She laughed. “It made me leave all the faster. I should have stayed.”

“Now, Jon has to join us, and maybe, just maybe we’ll defeat Bloodraven.”

“Or die in the attempt.”

“Or die in the attempt.” Sansa agreed. She shuddered.

The next day, she wrote the first letter to Jon that had not be in code. She sat at the heart tree and poured out her heart. She had no need to write many words. He would come and together they would save their child.

_Dear Jon,_

_please come and be at my side, for our child, for me, for Winterfell and Arya, and maybe Bran. The time for stealth is over. We must fight for our freedom now._

_Know that I love you with all my heart and that this gives me more strength than I knew I had. Even the rare stolen moments we had, gave me happiness enough for a lifetime. If we fail, we will fail together. If we succeed, you’ll be my king and husband._

_Sansa_

The travellers left Winterfell the next morning, her letter in their bags. The wolves stayed though, and a week after the travellers had left the Queen in the North had a new maid, which was the talk of the castle for a time. The girl had just arrived when the travellers left, although her letters of recommendation had been impeccable.

Spring turned to summer and a raven came from the North, that the Lord Commander would come to Winterfell again. The Queen looked only half as annoyed as usual with her cousin’s visit, but then her bannermen remarked that the Queen looked healthy and happy. Such a pity that she was not married yet.

King Bran sent a raven as well, promulgating his circuit of his lands and a visit to his sister. He would come South from White Harbour to celebrate the summer solstice at Winterfell. The game was set and all that was for Sansa was to wait.


End file.
